


Procrastination

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2006154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, I only wrote this because I felt bad about Michael nearly dying, and diving right back into the job less than 12 hours later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Procrastination

“Fuck you, Lester!” Michael barks into the phone.

“ _Hey, these are_ your _FIB buddies, and I’m bringing them to_ my _place of work to try and give you a little homecourt advantage. You’re the one who got me on the fucking radar!_ ”

“Yeah, and I’m fucking sorry, okay!?” A passing pedestrian is startled by his raised voice, and glares as she hurries by. Michael takes a deep breath and grinds his teeth. “I’m sorry, Lester, but we’re all gettin’ fucked here. Me especially- yesterday I was strung up to a meat hook by some Chinese fucks because T has so many daddy issues they thought we were a couple!” he spits, standing from the beachside bench. The man of a couple passing behind him hurries the woman along, eyeing him. Mike glares back. “What, don’t try to tell me that’s the weirdest thing you’ve heard in Los Santos!” They break into a full sprint, and the criminal cuts through a side yard toward his car, putting the phone back up to his ear. “What were you saying, Lest?”

Lester snorts. “ _I_ said, _you’re one to talk about daddy issues. Anyway, are you forgetting, you didn’t get yourself off that hook- metaphorical and physical. That was Franklin and I, and did I get a single “thanks for saving my ass”? Of course not, you’re Michael De Santa, the most narcissistic ex-retiree in LS- and that’s saying something!_ ”

“Gee, thanks, Lester.”

“ _Shut up. Can something be about anyone other than you, for once? Oh, but it can’t, because you caused this._ ”

“Trevor-!”

“ _Found you because you threw your catchphrase, you dumbass! Did you really think there weren’t going to be old frenemies crawling out of the muck you buried them in now that you’re... practically skywriting... “Townley Lives”...?_ ” He cuts himself off, takes a huff of his inhaler and seethes silently- long enough Michael checks to see if he hung up.

“ _Look, twenty percent isn’t enough to cover my job and moonlighting as your second therapist since Friedlander isn’t dealing with another relapse. I hate Trevor more than I think you can even comprehend, but I know better than to fuck with him. You’re a dumbass sometimes, but you wouldn’t have made it to twenty, much less early retirement in, uh, “our line of work”, if you weren’t smart. Trevor’s a psychopath; pure emotion. You know how to keep from setting him off, and you still do. What are you trying to accomplish?_ ”

Mike stays quiet for a moment, lets his mouth close. “... I-”

“ _I don’t care. It’s interfering with the job. Figure it out, and fix it._ ” His voice softens slightly, enough that anyone less self-absorbed than Michael might have noticed. “ _I can tell them to come back tomorrow. Can’t guarantee they’ll listen- and it’s on your head!- but I’ll do it. Do something productive with your day off, will you?_ ”

“Yeah, _thanks!_ ” he starts sarcastically. Lester’s already hung up.

Michael breaks eleven traffic laws in twelve minutes before he realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going.

**Author's Note:**

> He then proceeds to buy 4 new suits, get clobbered by Franklin at tennis, and watch old movies in his underwear before passing out drunk on the kitchen floor.


End file.
